


It's Okay, You're Okay

by Littlespacestars



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, F/M, Injury, Oops, POV Allura (Voltron), Shallurangst, Whump, he's bleeding out, it's a crisis, just self-indulged angst, shallura - Freeform, they're both injured but Shiro's fatally injured, they're pining for each other and hopelessly in love and dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 08:52:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14516847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlespacestars/pseuds/Littlespacestars
Summary: “Shiro, you cannot close your eyes,” she says. “Do you understand? Stay awake.”Each breath he takes is sporadic, too short and wet. He squints up at her through his bangs, strains against the heaviness of his eyelids and the welcoming darkness at the edges of his vision.“Shiro, stay with me.”





	It's Okay, You're Okay

“No, no, no _no_ no.” Allura pleads to Shiro as he battles to stay conscious. He’s half rested in her lap, putting weight on her injured leg that she ignores, even though it is surely broken. Her shoulder is wounded, a nasty neon purple gash oozing red down her armor, courtesy of Haggar. It throbs and it glows, painful enough to leave her gasping. It feels as if it’s sucking away her energy. She’s growing weaker by the minute.

Allura’s hands press down tightly against Shiro’s gaping wound, the blood pouring hot between her fingers. It only took seconds, just seconds for it to spill so quickly out of him, onto the ground, all over her. Her chestplate is smeared red. He’s worse off than she is and she berates herself for not protecting him better. She shouldn’t have allowed Haggar to lay a hand on him, not again. Not ever. 

“Shiro, you cannot close your eyes,” she says. “Do you understand? Stay _awake_.” 

Each breath he takes is sporadic, too short and wet. He squints up at her through his bangs, strains against the heaviness of his eyelids and the welcoming darkness at the edges of his vision. 

“Shiro, stay with me.” She looks around herself for any kind of resources, anything to help patch up his wound. All she sees are various shattered vials and broken artifacts destroyed during their fight with Haggar and her druids. The witch’s lab is in shambles and Allura briefly turns her attention to the barred entrance. Behind the door she can clearly hear the gunfire and the shouting of the Galra soldiers trying to get in. 

She glances down at her undersuit and wonders if she can risk precious seconds to tear a strip off. Shiro’s losing too much blood. She shouldn’t move her hands. 

His eyes shut for a moment too long and her heart thrums in her ears. “Look at me, Shiro. Right here.” 

Shiro opens his eyes back up for her and she helplessly watches him fade in and out, his breathing ragged, shallow, barely there until he coughs and spits up blood. It dribbles down the corner of his mouth, rolls down the length of his neck where the muscles constrict and strain. 

He’s frighteningly pale and sweat drips down his temples. His teeth clench together and he does his best to focus on her, does his best to grind out the words, “...’llura, i-it’s okay... it’s...” 

“Shh, shh,” she soothes. She wishes she could reach over and stroke his hair, his face, do everything she can to comfort him. She glances back down at his wound, still steadily seeping blood between her fingers. “I know, I know, it’s okay, _you’re okay_. You’re right. Everything will be okay.” 

She tunes into her commlink and hears nothing but static, but she will yell at white noise for hours if it means Shiro will have a chance. 

“I need an extraction!” She tries to keep her voice maintained, but she feels anything but maintained. Her head is throbbing, her leg is broken, the deadly gash in her shoulder is growing larger, much more toxic. Her thoughts are fleeting, her paladin, _her Shiro_ , is _dying in her arms_ , how can she possibly pull herself together? 

Haggar is gone, but Allura can still feel the heaviness and the unease of this place set deep in her bones. It’s crept into her skin, and makes her feel ill. The heavy residue of the witch’s dark magic is suffocating. Allura wonders if it’s the reason she cannot contact the paladins. 

“Coran!” she urges into her commlink. “ _Someone!_ ”

Shiro wraps his flesh hand around her wrist and she stops to look down at him. His eyes are wet, and he’s staring up at her, in immense pain, but she sees a brief smile. It’s small, diluted, but it’s his face of reassurance. It’s the soft one, the one he gives her when she needs someone to be there for her. 

It’s killing her. 

He shouldn’t be the one comforting her. He gives her a weak squeeze and Allura chokes back a sob. 

“D-Do not worry, they will be here. They will be here soon,” she insists, and tries returning the smile. She can feel the tears rolling down her face and they drip onto his neck, onto his cheeks. “Hold on for me a little longer.” 

_They cannot hear me, they are not coming._

“I-I think I can stop your bleeding.” Allura holds her breath, braces herself. She tries pushing aside the lightheadedness, the nausea. She thinks of the way she healed the Balmera. She imagines how she centered herself, poured her entire being into the creature, and harmonized with its lifenergy. 

She dives deep into herself, in search of the quintessence. A pink flecked light flickers from her hands, from inside his wound, and she pushes harder for the energy she wants, she _needs_. But she feels a break, a disconnect that violently snaps her back into her flesh. The quintessence retracts from her, just out of her reach. 

She slumps forward against him, gasping and reeling for air as her body fails her. Her shoulder is a white hot pain now, and she stares at her wound, sees glowing veins of ghastly purple stretching down her arm to her knuckles. Her blood runs cold and she feels the panic settle heavy in her chest. She can hardly move.

He’s dying, Shiro’s _dying_. She can’t heal him, she can’t help him.

“I-I need an extraction. I-Immediately. Anyone,” she says, voice broken, on the verge of losing it, losing everything. She’s close to screaming, close to blinding anger. _It isn’t fair._

“...ngh ...never told you...I—” Shiro chokes and Allura can hardly bear to watch his face twist up in pain, twist up with a muffed sob. “...lura, I...ou...”

He falls silent, and her heart stops when she watches him close his eyes for much too long, and he goes heavy in her arms. The quivering muscle in his jaw stops. His breathing is gone. The only thing that moves is his blood, like thick red water through her fingertips. 

“ _Shiro_?” Allura’s voice is barely above a whisper, a mere croak of sound. Her bottom lip trembles as she looks over his face for any sign of movement, any sign of life. 

She removes her hands from his wound, something she swore not to do. They’re red with his blood and she grips his face in her trembling hands, sweeps a thumb along his cheekbone.

“ _T-Takashi?_ ” she asks one more time. 

Allura only hears the echo of her own voice, and her heartbeat is deafening in her ears.

She must scream loud enough for every inhabitant on the ship to hear her. Energy, deep within her, surges all at once to the surface and all she sees is white. The universe and all the life in it stills as she pours her quintessence into him, a bright and pure pink light engulfing the two of them in the darkness. It’s too much, it’s _everything_ , all taken out of her in one split second and it hurts, and it feels like it lasts hours, days. But it can’t hurt as much as he did. 

She’s hunched over him when the light disperses, forehead pressed to his cracked chestplate, her hair damp with sweat and sticking to her face. Her entire body screams at her, every muscle pulled taut and stinging. She’s afraid she’ll pass out from the pain. Her vision is still white, splotchy, and her ears ring. 

His story cannot end here. Not in the bowels of Haggar’s lair, shrouded with unspeakable evils and the darkest of shadows. Not surrounded by Galra soldiers on a Galran ship. It cannot end here. It _cannot_ end. Especially not with the mangled Galra arm still attached to him. 

A wet sound emerges, faint and barely audible from beneath her, from Shiro’s throat. It’s broken, heart wrenching, sends shivers down her spine. It’s the most beautiful sound to her ears. 

She lifts her head enough to see his eyes crack open, dazed, fixated on nothing. But he’s awake. He’s breathing, shallow breaths be damned.

She tries to contain all her emotions rushing throughout herself so overwhelmingly at the sight of him alive. He’s alive because of her, because of her lifeforce. His wound looks sealed shut. It isn't pretty, but it will do. 

“Allura?” She hears Lance’s voice crackle over the commlink. “Allura, can you hear me? Where are you? Blue picked up this huge surge of—of energy? Are you guys okay?” 

“Lance,” she chokes. “Lance, I’m here. _Gods_ , please help. _Help him_.” 

“Hang tight, we’ll be there soon.” 

Shiro's breathing is short, raspy, full of blood. His eyes fall closed again, but his lips move, breathlessly. She swears she hears him saying her name. 

“You’re going to be okay,” she whispers, throat constricted and sore. She smoothes his bangs out of his face, leans down and kisses his forehead. “Everything will be okay.”


End file.
